The First Witch & Other Assorted Special Infected
by footshooter
Summary: The L4D2 crew are stuck in the middle of an apocalypse, and there's some really strange *stuff* going down. T for swearing and violence. Going through the spec'infected not necessarily in any order. Idea to continue from Magicwinter. How could I say no?
1. Witch

"Guys," Rochelle said, flicking her torch on. "Can you hear that?"

Ellis frowned and listened intently to the sobbing coming from a few rooms in front of him. "Hey, is that someone cryin'?"  
>"I dunno man," Nick said, fear prickling up his neck. "I think we should be careful."<br>"Naw, if there's a lady cryin' then we need to help, right?"

He looked at the fear in the others' eyes. "What, y'think it could be one o'them?"

Rochelle shook her head, "No, it sounds human."  
>"They all sound human," Coach said.<p>

"No, they don't. this sounds different."

Ellis was starting to worry, "I dunno, Ro. Maybe that's just what they _want_ us to think."  
>"They're not that clever."<p>

Ellis thought back to the other night, when he turned around to be confronted with the Hunter that had been stalking them for miles in the air behind him, pouncing. Before he could knock it back, it was on him, clawing through his clothes to the skin beneath. The wounds still hurt whenever he breathed.

"'M not sure."  
>"We should check it out at least, right?" she said, almost pleading. "If <em>I<em> was stuck cryin', I'd hope someone would come t'get me."  
>"<em>I'd<em> hope if you were stuck somewhere you would have more sense than to make so much goddamn noise!" Nick said, irritably, but followed Rochelle through the doorway, his gun raised.

They wandered through the dark house, their flashlights shining into the dark, occasionally jumping when confronted with a snarling face close to theirs before their finger pulled the trigger and said snarling face was blown into a red splatter against the wall. Ellis' heart was in his mouth as the crying got closer.

"Guys," he whispered. "I really don' like this. I think we should go."

"I agree," Nick said, glad someone was finally seeing sense, even if it was the kid who wandered round being irritating, hooting at zombies and telling stories about his buddy Keith. He shone his torch in Ellis' direction, and could see how pale he was, sweat seeping down his forehead.

"Jeez, Nick," Ellis said, wincing, and Nick clicked off the light. Ellis followed suit, only clicking it back on when he needed to look into a room.

"We're nearly there now," Rochelle said. "All we have to do is take a look."

She turned a doorknob and let it swing open to reveal the dark room beyond. Her flashlight was pointing at the floor. Ellis and Nick raised their guns behind her.

"Hello?" Rochelle said, tentatively, but the crying continued. Ellis and Nick glanced at each other.

"Maybe she's in shock," Coach said, shrugging.

"Or maybe she's a fucking zombie," Nick muttered. Ellis flicked off the safety on his shotgun, his finger hovering over the trigger.

"Anyone there?"  
>"Ro, be careful!" Ellis said, and Rochelle chuckled.<p>

"Don' be such a _pussy_, Ellis. What's the worst that could happen?"

Rochelle picked up her gun and shone the flashlight into the room, scanning over the surfaces until she spotted a young, blond woman crouched over on the floor, her head in her hands, her whole body shaking with the force of the sobs.

"See," Rochelle said, turning to face the men behind her. "I told y'all, din't I?"

She stepped forwards and shone her light on the woman.

"Hey, sweetie. We're here to help."

The sobbing stopped, and Nick and Ellis glanced at each other, their blood running cold.

"Rochelle," Nick hissed. "Get back here."

"Honey?"

The growling started, and Rochelle turned her back on the figure to squint at the men in the doorway. Her flashlight beam hit the woman dead centre, and she started to howl.

"ROCHELLE!" Coach shouted, and Rochelle started stumbling backwards towards the door.

The figure on the floor turned her stark white face towards the doorway, shrieking, her hair falling over her bright red eyes and her hands spreading out in front of her, revealing the long, sword-like nails, her sharp teeth bared.

"Ho-ly shit," Ellis breathed.

The zombie let out one final shriek, and hopped to her feet, howling in fury. Coach grabbed Rochelle and manhandled her out of the room, slamming the door behind them and pulling her beyond Nick and Ellis and further into the hall. They walked backwards as the zombie knocked through the door with one swipe.

Nick started to open fire as the zombie ran forwards towards Rochelle, but his bullets didn't so much as slow the zombie down.

"Fuck!" he shouted, and Ellis finally got his auto-shotgun reloaded and started to fire, the rounds knocking against his shoulder hard enough to bruise but comforting in his hand. He fired with steely determination as they ran backwards towards the open street.

They all but fell out of the door, and the zombie fell onto Ellis, finally dead, riddled with shotgun wounds and leaking blood onto Ellis' shirt, her claws laying across his chest.

He remembered to breath, and let out a shaky laugh, Nick clutching on to the wall for support beside him.

"Holy fuck," Ellis said, and Nick nodded,

"Yeah. Rochelle? You gonna listen to us next time?"

Rochelle nodded shakily, her face still pale and clammy. Ellis pushed the zombie off him and stood up.

"So what the hell was that?"

Coach was staring at the wall in front of them, and stepped aside to reveal a big sign reading "BEWARE OF THE WITCHES!" written in blood coloured paint, a crudely drawn cartoon of a barely dressed woman with long hair and red eyes beneath it.

"I'd say it was a Witch," Coach said, and the rest of the group looked at each other.

"That mean there's more of them?" Rochelle asked, her voice small and shaky.

Everyone started to listen, not speak, and from all around them were faded cries, echoing through walls and bouncing into the street.

"Aw, fuck," Ellis said, and Rochelle gulped.

"Okay," Coach said. "Flashlights off everyone, don' go anywhere you can' see, and watch out for the cryin' gettin' louder. We can make it through this town jus' like all the rest."

They nodded and raised their guns, heading off slowly into the streets beyond. They could only pray that they found a safe-room before nightfall.

And that they had _ finally_ encountered everything the apocalypse was going to throw at them.


	2. Boomer

Ellis was running towards where the posters directed him, red arrows on the wall guiding his way, his lungs burning, a stitch in his side. He had very little in the way weapons, a stark warning from CEDA that anyone possessing firearms at the evac station would be shot on sight had wormed its way into his head and he'd not stopped to find a gun. He did have an axe from home slung over his back though, already bloodstained from the amount of zombies he'd hacked to bits on his way through.

It had been chaos in the beginning.

He'd waved goodbye to his family before shit got bad, his brothers and sisters peering out of the bus window at him, his ma crying even though he'd _promised_ her he'd be alright. He had to get them out; their lives were worth more than his – he was the oldest, he was responsible for them all since his pa left.

It was even worse now that the dead had risen and started to roam the streets, lurking around corners ready to jump on him. He was thankful he'd not been bitten yet.

He wondered where his friends were, and whether or not he was a coward for running without looking for them. He wondered if his buddy Keith was wandering the streets attacking anything that moved, or if he was one of the bodies he'd seen with their intestines ripped out.

He cut himself out of that particular train of thought because it wasn't going to help him, not now, not ever. He'd find out when he was safe, and then he could beat himself up over it. Until then, he had to keep running. And start _thinking_. Every time he lost concentration he was putting himself at risk.

Ellis sprinted around a corner, and straight into something large, wet and sticky. And it absolutely stunk.

He staggered backwards with his hand over his mouth and nose, before glancing up at what exactly it was that he'd run into.

The zombie in front of him was larger than any he'd seen before, bloated and with boils covering most of its face and skin. Its belly button had stretched out so much it was like a weeping crater in the centre of its stomach, and veins were visible starkly under its stretched skin. It looked like it was going to explode, and it really, _really_ smelled _bad_.

"Boom-er," it said, and then promptly threw up in Ellis's direction. He managed to leap out of the way, trying not to be sick himself at the smell. He heard the sounds of zombies heading in his direction.

"Holy shit," he said, and raised the axe, chopping the Boomer's head off and causing it to explode in the process, covering him in junk.

"Urgh man, what the _hell_?"

Ellis couldn't see much through the green haze over his eyes, and the stuff was viscous and strange, dripping off him and dropping to the floor without leaving a residue behind it.

And then he saw the horde heading in his direction.

"Fuck."

He stepped over the dead body of the Boomer and pressed his back against the wall, rasing the axe and just _chopping_ like his life depended on it (which it did). Once the gunk had cleared from his face he could see again and target the zombies more easily. And eventually its effect wore off and no extra zombies ran towards him.

When he was surrounded by corpses, shaking and sweating and covered in blood he laughed. And then he sunk against the wall and slid to the floor and began to cry hysterically. Because the attack hadn't been without its consequences – he was covered in bites and scratches, and all he knew was that meant certain death.

He crawled into a shed and shut the door behind him, waiting out the night and waiting to die.

The next morning light shone through the cracks in the shed door, and common infected were lurking around, sniffing out the human that they could _sense_ was hiding. Their grunts and moans woke Ellis with a start, and for a second he was astounded that he was still him. He looked down at his hands and noticed the cuts were healing.

"Well goddamn."

He stood up, shook himself off and raised his axe. Time to get to the evac station and take out some sons o'bitches.

…

Later, when he'd met with Nick, and after that Rochelle and Coach, he'd paused them in an alleyway when he'd heard the burping and gurgling sounds, just waiting.

A Boomer shambled round the corner, and he shot it's head straight off, blowing it up in the middle of the street while the others looked disgusting.

"What the are those things, man?" Rochelle asked.

"Boomer," Ellis said. "On account o'the noise it makes. Y'know _Boom-er_. Hell, don' let it near ya. Once it pukes on ya, you get surrounded. Had it happen t'me the first day I was out here. And it ain't pretty. Man, I thought I was gonna die."

"You know, Ellis, we did have that happen to both of us. After the Tank."  
>"Oh hell, course we did! Shit man, I dunno where I am or who I'm with any more."<p>

Nick shook his head.

…

Soon after that a lady Boomer waddled right into their path and they all scuttled backwards as it threw up, narrowly missing the survivors.

"Hey Ellis, your Boomer friend's sent his _wife_ after you!"

"Oh man, she's one _ugly bitch_!" Ellis said, and Nick laughed.

"Don' talk about ladies like that, Ellis!" Coach scolded.

"Aw, c'mon Coach, she's not a _lady_. She's a fucking _thing_. A _disgusting_ fucking thing!" Rochelle added, crinkling her nose in disgust.

Nick shot it, and it exploded in a similar way to the male Boomer.

"She was definitely fugly though," Ellis said.

No one argued.


	3. Hunter

Nick couldn't quite believe that not only had he gotten himself stuck in the middle of a fucking zombie apocalypse without a gun and missed the start of it _and _the evacuations by sleeping away the morning with a hangover in his hotel room, but also that he'd managed to get stuck in some stupid backwater _hick_ town where everyone lived in caravans or tin shacks and cleared out early with their guns _and _their booze.

He should have listened to the news, he knew that now, but he hadn't at the time – playing down the Green Flu for exactly what he thought it was – _flu_. And he'd never had flu, so he wasn't concerned. In fact, he was half-convinced he was immune.

This, though, this was something different. The shit had gone down badly. He'd had to leave his watch behind, his whisky, that woman who he had to club over the head with a vase because she'd woken up trying to eat his fucking brains (oh and _man_ she'd been _so_ pretty – not so pretty when she was puking and snarling blood all over the place, clawing at his face, of course). And his fucking _suit_ was covered in blood. His _best_, very expensive, _white_ suit.

Man he was pissed.

And as a consequence, he was jogging down one of the dirt tracks they classed as roads in this fucking part of the country towards where he _hoped_ the final helicopters were, tripping over loose stones and beer cans.

God, he was expecting to hear the banjos any minute now…

Instead, he heard a growling noise and stopped in his tracks, staring around him.

"What the hell?"

It was echoing around him so he couldn't place it, but it didn't sound like any other zombie he'd heard. He started to spin the crowbar around in his hands nervously, before catching sight of what appeared to be a yellow t-shirt and a blue baseball cap. He looked closer, and the figure seemed to be holding an axe.

_Well_, Nick thought to himself. _Beggars can't be choosers._

He waved an arm at the kid behind the wall.

"Hey!"

Ellis popped his head out and shushed Nick.

"Hey man, keep your voice down. There's something fucking _stalking_ you."

Nick frowned and wandered over to him, "Huh?"

Ellis pointed at the roof, where Nick could vaguely see a black shape.

"That's nothing, man. Just someone's stuck their jumper out of a window or something."

Ellis tutted, becoming annoyed, "Naw man, I've been _watching_ it. But I ain't got a gun so I can't _shoot_ it. Imma have t'wait til it comes down here and it don't seem willing to jump."

The growl sounded out again, and Nick's hand twitched, clutching the crowbar closer. Ellis flattened himself against the wall again and smirked at Nick. Something screamed, and then the 'jumper' leapt down to the tarmac, landing pretty lightly on its feet.

Ellis and Nick both looked around the corner curiously.

"_Oh_." Nick said, and Ellis glanced at him.

"What?"  
>Nick started giggling, "So <em>that's<em> a Hunter, huh? What's it gonna do, go for a _jog_ at me?"

The figure had long nails and was grumbling, baring its sharpened teeth. It was covered in welts and weeping scratch marks, presumably where it had become infected. It was wearing a black hoodie, the hood pulled up to shadow its darkened eyes, black rings sticking out upon clammy, grey skin. Its trousers and jacket were torn.

"Hey, _freak_. Come on then! What you gonna do?"

The Hunter screamed and dived through the air, landing on top of Nick and starting to claw at his chest. He started to scream,

"HELP!"

Ellis stepped forward and cracked the Hunter around the head with the blunt end of the axe. It fell off Nick and staggered backwards, Ellis continuing to smack it, this time with the sharp end, until it yelped and fell to the floor.

Ellis turned to look at Nick, who was getting up from the ground shakily, pressing his hands to the wounds until they stopped.

"Y'alright?"  
>"Just flesh wounds," he said, shakily. "Oh shit."<br>"Don' worry about it, man. I got attacked too," he indicated to his shirt. "Torn to pieces, an' yet, I'm still here. Maybe you will be too."

He held out his hand,

"'M Ellis by the way. Pleased to meet someone who ain't a fucking zombie."  
>Nick shook the offered hand.<p>

"Nick."

_And me too_, he thought.


	4. Smoker

Rochelle was worried. She was absolutely _convinced_ something was following her through the streets, and she didn't know whether it was a zombie or a person. She'd been hearing coughing for a couple of miles now and although it didn't _sound_ like any zombie she'd encountered, she wasn't too sure and was on her guard.

If it was a _man_ then the consequences could be potentially worse than being infected or torn to bits. In fact, right now, she'd rather take the zombies than run into a hick with a bad attitude towards women and no respect for the law, especially now that there was no one to enforce it. She wondered if she could use the baseball bat in her hands on another _living_ human being to save her skin, or whether she'd have to leave that for the zombies.

She shuddered at the thought and picked up her pace a bit; nervously glancing behind her whenever she was convinced she could hear footsteps. She was upset that she'd missed her big break too. Damned zombies had to destroy everything good in her life. That story could have been the difference between her getting the coffees for the next 3 years and actually having her face plastered over the television while she was roving reporting from where ever shit was going down.

Never mind going down now, though. She was stuck in it, and stuck deep.

…

Coach was heading on a direct path of collision with Rochelle. He was trying to find a poster which pointed out where the recky point was so that he could get the hell out of Savannah, since he'd had to forgo the emergency bus since there were already too many kids on board.

He hoped to god they were still safe somewhere and not in a massive crashed bus fireball being eaten by zombies. He was a teacher; he had a _duty_ to protect them while they were in his care. And as long as they were without their parents, they were in _his_ care.

He'd almost punched that guy in the CEDA suit who had been up in his grill, pushing him backwards down the bus steps saying it was full. He'd only backed down when he'd promised that he'd keep the kids safe. And he better have done, otherwise it wouldn't just be _zombies_ the man had to worry about.

_Zombies_.

Coach still found it hard to believe that his streets were paved with the walking dead. It was a stupid concept that he'd berated the boys for when they'd shown up for class late because they'd been playing zombie games the night before and had hyped themselves up on caffeine and adrenaline and couldn't sleep until 3 or 4 in the morning. Now, he almost wished he'd joined in their survival plans.

He'd known plenty of kids get sick and taken away, seen their parents driving after the ambulances, screaming and crying. It made him shudder even now.

Coach could hear something coughing and spluttering and wasn't entirely sure it was human. He stopped in the shadows, glancing around him and spotting a hunched figure lurching along a rooftop above him, surrounded by a strange green haze. He frowned.

The figure would occasionally stop and bend forwards, coughing up bile and exhaling smoke. It could almost be human from this distance, wearing jeans and a t shirt and normal boots, but when Coach looked closer he could see the huge tumour-like growths on its face, the blood on its shirt and jeans and the strange, waving tentacle-like things swaying and twisting this way and that.

He'd seen some weird shit in this apocalypse so far, he didn't need to see any more…

Coach didn't have enough ammo to take it down as he was too far away for a clean shot from where he was with his pistol, and didn't want to waste his bullets in case it decided to show an interest in him, or he ran into any more of those ugly fuckers round a corner.

But it looked like it was hunting _something_, the way it moved was purposeful and determined, so he decided to follow it. Because if someone needed help, he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna give it.

…

Rochelle was getting twitchier by the minute, now convinced something was after her. Every now and then she'd see a figure in a window, or on a rooftop which would vanish before she had time for a second glance. Her heart was in her mouth.

Tiles fell from a roof beside her and she jumped, pushing her hand over her mouth to stop herself crying out.

"C'mon girl, stop being stupid," she said when she kicked the broken tiles. She giggled involuntarily.

And then something coughed from behind her, and before she had time to turn round to see it something spluttered and grabbed her around the chest and waist, holding on a tightening, crushing her chest. She looked down and screamed, _it was a fucking _tongue.

She couldn't help herself, she was screaming and flailing, but she couldn't get the damned thing off herself, it was too slippery and too _strong_ and she thought that this would possibly be the worst way to die _ever_. It was absolutely disgusting.

Another tongue joined the first, worming its way up her chest to her neck and tightening there so she spluttered and had to work harder to get her voice heard. She could feel herself getting faint, feeling sick, not enough oxygen reaching her body as she hung, her back against a wall. She prayed her neck would break soon.

…

Coach appeared around the corner after sprinting his way towards the sounds of a screaming girl. He could see her, suspended in the air, flailing her arms and trying to hit the _tongues_ with a baseball bat, but she was growing weak and fast.

Coach aimed, once, twice, three times and finally hit the head, the girl falling to the floor as the tongue slowly unravelled from her body and the zombie went up in a cloud of disgusting green smoke.

…

Rochelle dropped to her knees, desperately trying to draw air back into her lungs and instead only getting putrid smoke that made her eyes water and her lungs burn. Someone had _shot_ the thing above her, and she needed to see who.

She could hear the sound of a man coughing coming closer towards her through the smoke and was suddenly frightened.

Coach knelt down in front of her and peered at her through the smoke.

"C'mon girl, lets get you away from this stuff."

Rochelle nodded, taking comfort in the voice, and allowed the man to help her to her feet, grabbing at the bat beside her. Once they were away from the smoke and she had breathed enough oxygen to regain the capacity to talk she squinted at Coach.

"Thank you," she said, her voice husky and grating against her throat.

"Not a problem little lady, glad to be of assistance."

She smiled, not even minding him calling her 'little lady' because at least he was another person, and he seemed calm, rational and _kind_. And he'd saved her life.

She held out her hand, "I'm Rochelle."  
>"Coach."<p>

She smiled, "Hey, you don't by any chance know where the Vannah is, do you?"

Coach looked up at her, "O'course I do."  
>"That's the evac station, I say we head for it right now."<br>"I'd be inclined to agree wit' ya."

"Then lets go."

Rochelle coughed up some phlegm and spat it out on to the floor, grimacing, and then got into step with Coach, her heart lifting at the thought of finding the hotel.


	5. Spitter & Jockey

It was getting dark and Nick wanted to find a safe place to sleep. The plus side was that he was still alive, the downside was that the kid that was trailing behind him like a lost puppy taking great glee in chopping off zombie's heads with that axe he had was _annoying_.

Probably wasn't his fault though, Nick would place money on the fact that his cousins were probably also his siblings.

"Hey, Nick?"

Nick sighed, it _had_ been an abnormally long time since he'd spoken, but his voice was grating.

"I thought we were playing the quiet game?" he hissed through his teeth.

"Yeah, that's the thing. I _was_. But I can, ah, hear laughin'."

Nick shook his head, "You on something, kid?"

"What?" Ellis looked scandalised, "No! Why would y'say that?"

Ellis was getting irritated at the older man's complete lack of faith in his judgement and derogatory comments. Because really, if Ellis wanted to, he could knock him clean on his arse. But he didn't want to. Because he wanted to find a saferoom and rest for the night.

"Because I can't hear a goddamn thing."

Ellis frowned, "Well, I can."

Ellis raised his axe and bit back the pout threatening to show him up by appearing on his face. Nick kept walking. Ellis continued to jump around.

"You're paranoid, kid. Let's just find this saferoom before we can't see a foot in front of us."

Ellis wasn't convinced, and showed it in his posture. Nick ignored him and the faded echoing laughter until he couldn't anymore.

"Ah shit," he said and turned round to look at Ellis, who grinned, happy that he'd _finally_ caught on.

"You hear it now?"  
>"Yep. Only just though. You got dog hearing or something?"<p>

"Somethin' like that."

"Okay, what the fuck is it and where is it coming from?" Nick said, sighing.

"Dunno what it is, but I think it's comin' from behind us."  
>"Great, zombie ambush from behind. That's all we need."<p>

"Let's just keep goin'. It ain't caught us yet."

"True."

Nick continued to walk backwards.

"What the fuck?" Ellis asked, and Nick frowned.

"What now?"  
>"I jus' saw somethin' <em>real<em> weird over there."

Nick spun round.

"There's nothing there, Overalls."

Ellis frowned at the nickname.

"There _was_. See, it's left somethin' behind."

Nick could see a bright green trail on the ground, bubbling and hissing like acid burning through the pavement.

"Jesus. So now they've got _acid_?"

"That what that is?"  
>"I think so."<p>

The laughing was growing louder and more manic and was becoming merged with high pitched squeals. It was disorientating Nick and Ellis, who were spinning this way and that, an attack imminent from either side of the alley.

"Ah shit, this is doin' mah head in. C'mon show yourselves! Fucking pussies!" Ellis shouted, and Nick shushed him.

"What the hell, kid? You trying to get us killed."  
>"They know we're here already, we might as well take 'em on sooner rather than later."<p>

A guttural sucking sound came from behind them, and they both spun around. After the initial shock had subsided, Ellis laughed.

"Hey Nick, it's your mom."

Nick ignored the jibe,

"Oh now _that_ is _hideous_," he said.

The zombie was frothing bright green acid from her horrifically enlarged mouth, her lips and cheeks eroded and covered in sores, her neck elongated. Her breasts were sagging and covered only by a gold bra, her leggings torn and feet bare and mutated. Her hands were clawed, and she had bright red sores where the acid dripping from her mouth would fizz on her chest and blister instantly.

"How the hell d'we take that out?" Ellis said, and Nick shrugged,

"Wait for it to get close enough?"  
>"I suppose."<p>

The creature threw back her head, still making the same hissing, spluttering noises, and then snapped it forward, spitting a pool of bright green acid at them which grew and spread as they stood there. They both leapt out of the way and the Spitter ran off.

"What the fuck?" Ellis asked again, and then something laughed manically and jumped on his back.

"Nick!" he shouted, and Nick turned from where he was trying to get around the pool of acid to see Ellis trying to get something off his back, while being pushed steadily closer to the acid, which was still spitting.

"Watch it, Ellis!" he shouted, turning around.

"Get. This. Fucking. Thing. Off. Me. Man!" Ellis said, still trying to spin and regain control of his body while the small zombie wrapped its legs around his chest and positively _screamed_ with laughter in his ear.

"Stand still then!"  
>"I <em>can't<em>!"

Nick sighed and caught up to Ellis just before he hit the acid, elbowing the zombie in the face and knocking it to the floor.

Its skin was grey, and it was still cackling, albeit in a less hysterical way. It _looked_ mad. It had a hunched back, its muscles stronger around its back and neck, perfect for leaping. Its mouth and hands were covered in sores, the latter abnormally large and equipped with claws for latching on to survivors clothes. Its arms, mouth and feet were covered in blood where it had attacked people before. And it was dressed in a bloodstained white shirt and blue boxer shorts.

Ellis gripped the axe, disgust written across his face as the zombie reached out to swipe its claws at his legs.

"Was that thing fuckin' _humpin'_ me?"

Nick started to laugh, and Ellis cracked it around the head a couple of times before it went limp and collapsed.

"Don' fuckin' start, man. I do _not_ wanna have to deal with ya if you're gonna be one o'them!"  
>"It's not that," Nick said, finding it hard to breathe. "You just got dry humped by a zombie."<p>

Ellis couldn't help but let his face twitch up in a smile, "Naw man, it ain't funny. It ain't _right_."  
>"Oh, hell is it funny!"<p>

Ellis shook his head and went to peer behind a door, causing Nick to sober up almost instantly,

"Hey, careful kid. Don't be bringing a load of zombies out here on me when I've got nothing to use as a weapon."

Ellis's gleeful face appeared in the doorway a second later, waving a shotgun and what looked like a Molotov cocktail. Nick was astounded.

"Where the hell did you find that?"

"Jus' in here. There's loasdsa shit. Someone musta been holdin' out in here and gotten themselves ate."

Ellis stepped back out onto the street while Nick chose a gun and a pipe bomb. He followed Ellis out, smiling ear to ear.

"Now _this_ feels better."

"Tell me abou' it. I miss my gun."  
>"Well you've got a new one now," Nick noticed the look on Ellis's face. "Oh, what now?"<p>

Ellis shook his head, "Maybes something, maybes nothing. I dunno. I just, I swear I can hear _somethin'_ but I dunno what. Now'n again. A growl, or a grunt, or a roar. But I dunno. Maybe it's just the noise of the apocalypse 'n I'm not used t'it yet."

Nick listened, "I can't hear anything." He said, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up because, well, Ellis was yet to be wrong.

The Spitter came back around the corner and Ellis blew it backwards with two shots from the shotgun. They echoed around the houses and the Spitter fell, deflating in a pool of acid.

"Yeah, fucking take that bitch," Ellis said, but Nick could tell that whatever he was hearing was freaking him out big style, because other than the statement, he'd not done any of his usual over-excited post-zombie shooting jumping around.

"Y'know, kid. It's alright. Whatever it is can't be worse than what we've already taken on."

Ellis smiled at Nick's first real attempt to comfort him even though he knew that he was only doing it because he too was visibly shaken up by whatever was going wrong. He hoped to God that Nick was right.

"Yeah."

Something growled, and it sounded big. Ellis glanced at Nick, and all of the colour drained from his face.

"Okay, I heard that."  
>"What d'ya think it is?"<br>"I dunno. But it sounds big."

Whatever it was, it was getting more agitated as time went on. A car alarm went off in one of the streets ahead, and whatever was growling growled louder, and then _roared_. The noise of the zombies in the streets around them getting to their feet and springing to life with a howl echoing all around them.

"Shit, Nick, that weren't us!"  
>"There aren't even any cars around here!"<p>

Ellis and Nick began walking backwards, raising their guns and checking the ammo as the ground began to shake…


	6. Charger

As Coach and Rochelle got closer to the centre of town, the zombie population steadily grew. They found themselves rapidly running out of strength and ammunition when they happened to come across a couple of loaded guns lying next to a dead and torn apart body.

"I wouldn't normally steal from the dead, but I think they'd want us to have them," Rochelle said, picking up a machine gun and handing the other to Coach. He hummed,

"Yeah, I wouldn' mind someone takin' it from me if it was gonna help them. You remember that, k?"

Rochelle tried her hardest to smile at him,

"We'll be _fine_, Coach. Don't worry about it."

Coach _was _worried though, and he couldn't hide it. At first it had just bee flu, then just zombies, but now they were fighting against the normal, brainless kind (who were _fast_) _and_ these special zombies that seemed to be cropping up all over the place. He sighed. Rochelle kept walking.

And then they heard a noise.

Rochelle frowned, and turned to Coach.

"Did you just hear a _cow_?"  
>"Somethin' like that, yeah." <p>

The noise was followed by other noises that sounded very similar to human speech.

"What in the hell? Is that someone talking?"

"Naw, I don' think so," Coach said. "Does sound like somethin' saying 'charger' though."

"Charger?"

The continued to listen intently, trying to make out words from the garbled, high pitched noises.

"Whatever it is, I think it's coming this way," Rochelle said, gulping and raising her gun to her shoulder, looking over the sights.

"I'd be inclined to agree."

The zombie lumbered slowly around the corner and Rochelle frowned.

"Now that _is_ odd."

It was greenish with cracked skin and mutations to half of its body. Its right arm was huge; its left leg enlarged to balance the weight. Its head was sunk into its chest, no visible neck to speak of, and its left arm hung limply to its side. It was covered in blood, the most on its enlarged arm, but some on its torn dungarees. It was missing a shoe.

"He looks slow," Rochelle muttered, clicking off the safety on her gun. "Maybe we should just take it down."

The zombie turned to face them, slowly and eerily, and let out a loud grunting cry, again like a cow, and put its arm in front of its body. Rochelle and Coach glanced at each other, and then it charged.

"Holy shit!" Rochelle exclaimed, squeezing the trigger on her gun only to find herself flying through the air and crunching against the wall on the other side of the street. Dazed, she stood up, looking around for Coach.

The Charger was against the back wall, pummelling him into the wall and floor while he screamed for help.

"Rochelle! Shoot the Charger! Shoot the Charger!"

She shook herself out of her daze and fired shot after shot into the zombies head until it finally collapsed on top of Coach. Rochelle helped to drag it off, and Coach shakily got to his feet, bruised and bleeding.

"I'm too old for this shit," Coach said, and Rochelle giggled.

"C'mon lets get out of here."

They walked a little further before the growling started.

"What the hell is that?" Rochelle asked, and Coach frowned,

"I don' wanna know, honey. Let's keep away from it."

Where ever they walked, the noise seemed to follow. And then they found themselves in a street full of zombies, with a parked car sat right in the middle, its lights flashing against the dusk.

"Ah, shit."


	7. Tank

"Okay, all we gotta do is be careful, k? No setting off full rounds."

"Okay."

"Try'n attract them t'us, not the other way round."  
>"Yep."<p>

The first few zombies ran at them, and they took them down with small arms and melee weapons so not to hit the car. Once one started, they all did, and soon they were surrounded, sweating and panting, fighting their way through a sea of bodies.

And then they were surrounded by corpses, covered only with scratches.

"Phew," Coach said, wiping his brow.

Rochelle paused, "Can you hear that growling still?"

"Yup."  
>"It's freaking me out a bit."<br>"It'll be okay."

Something wearing a black hoodie and shorts dropped down from one of the roofs and landed heavily on the alarmed car. The alarm started sounding and Coach shouted,

"Shit!"

Rochelle blew the Hunter out of the sky before it had chance to pounce on her, and a scream started up from all around them.

"HORDE!"

Coach grabbed her arm and started pulling her away from the car, but the ground was shaking behind them and that couldn't be just from the zombies. Something else was roaring underneath the noise, and whatever it was, it was _huge_ and heading in their direction.

They started to shoot the zombies coming around the corner towards them to clear their escape route, trying their best to avoid the ones at their heels, clawing against their backs.

Rochelle turned her head to look and saw a huge, muscular zombie hurtling towards them. They were faster, but her heart stopped.

"Oh my fucking GOD! RUN FASTER!"

The Tank picked up a car and threw it, narrowly missing the survivors and roaring in annoyance as it took out one of the buildings, raining concrete upon them.

…

"Nick, it's been nice meetin' ya man."

Nick laughed, and Ellis joined in in a moment of madness.

"I'd love to say the same kid."  
>"Well then go'n say it then!"<br>"Nah, can't do that."  
>"Pfft."<p>

"Aw man, it sounds like a fuckin' bombs headin' our way. Maybe that's all it is. We gonna shoot a bomb, Nick?"

Nick laughed again, "I'll shoot anything that's trying to kill me."

A building to their left exploded, and they both staggered sideways away from the impact.

"I think it's that way," Ellis said, with a smirk.

"At least the car alarm has stopped."  
>"Yeah. That's a plus."<p>

Zombies started coming from in front of them, and they started shooting. And then they noticed a man and a woman hurtle around the corner too.

"What the hell?"

Ellis started aiming to the side of them, taking out the zombies behind them.

"RUN!" they were shouting, and Ellis and Nick glanced at each other, confused, before starting to jog backwards.

"Oh ho-_ly_ shit!" Ellis said, and Nick grabbed his shoulder, pulling harder.

"C'mon kid, this is _not_ good."

The zombie was gigantic. It looked like it was on steroids. The muscle mass was so heavy that it had to use its knuckles when it was running, like a gorilla or something. Its head had retreated into its neck and its tongue was lolling out. It was roaring and the ground was cracking and shaking under its feet. It pulled a bit off the building and threw it in their direction, Nick and Ellis ducking as it shattered above them.

"Shit!" Ellis shouted.

"Ellis _come on_." Nick said.

"We need to shoot it!"

Rochelle and Coach had ran behind the two men by this point.

"It ain't gonna _stop_ 'til we kill it!"

It struck them as true, and they shouldered their weapons and started to shoot. Ellis pulled the Molotov from his belt, stuck a rag in the top, lit it and _threw_. It shattered on the ground and took the Tank up with it. But it didn't do much more than slow it down. In fact, it started to throw other zombies out of the way, crunching their bodies beneath its massive fists.

"Ah, Ellis, I think you made it angry," Nick said, and began shooting the Tank himself. Ellis shouldered his weapon,

"Yeah, well, all these fuckin' zombies are makin' _me_ angry."  
>Nick laughed hysterically.<p>

"_Is this really the time?_" Rochelle shrieked as the Tank threw more of the surrounding streets at them.

"Aw yeah, course it is. If I'm gonna die, Imma go out smilin'."

"You get used to him," Nick said, and Ellis chuckled.

"Keep moving back," Coach said. "It can' move as quick as we can."

They moved backwards through the street at a regular pace, continuing to empty clip after clip into the Tank and being bombarded with more and more debris and more and more regular zombies who were alerted to their presence by the noise the Tank was making.

"Fuck this," Nick said, and threw the pipe bomb he had. All of the regular zombies went hurtling after the blinking red light, being thrown aside in the large explosion at the end, the sky raining body parts along with shards of metal and concrete.

"Wooh-ee! Nice, Nick!"

The Tank gave one final furious roar, picking up a car and throwing it in their direction before it fell to the ground, its flesh still burning, the smell choking the air. The survivors dodged the car, Nick pushing Ellis into a building behind them, Rochelle and Coach going the other way, it hitting the side of the building and falling to the floor with a screech of metal and a resounding crash.

Ellis and Nick were panting, white and shaking, using the wall to prop themselves up. Ellis exhaled shakily.

"Shit, man."  
>"Shit."<p>

Ellis looked up and over Nick's shoulder, "Hey Nick."  
>"If this is bad news, just let me die. I don't want to know."<br>"Naw, it ain't. Look. Safe room!"

Nick spun around and a genuine smile graced his face for the first time.

"I suppose w'should go'n get them."  
>"If we must."<p>

They stepped outside, the car behind them, Coach and Rochelle hunched over in a doorway.

"Hey, we got a safe room if you're interested," Ellis said, smiling from ear to ear. Nick was looking at the Tank, it's skin becoming blackened as the fire burnt through it, crackling and sending plumes of acrid black smoke up into the sky.

Coach and Rochelle uncurled themselves carefully.

"It's dead?" Rochelle asked.

"Yup," Nick said, throwing it a look of pure disgust.

"Jesus Christ," Rochelle said, looking back over at it.

"C'mon," Coach muttered. "W'could all do wi' getting' patched up."

Rochelle nodded and allowed him to help her to her feet.

Nick and Ellis were the first through the door again, heading over to the safe room door, Ellis grinning from ear to ear and practically _skipping_, Nick just looking forward to eating something.

"Boom-er."

A Boomer waddled around the corner and straight into Nick and Ellis, projectile vomiting on them before they had a chance to knock it back with their guns.

"Urgh!" They both shouted, and then heard the zombies. Ellis shot the Boomer through the green haze that was clouding his vision, it blowing up with another splurt of bile and a loud bang.

Zombies started pouring from everywhere, breaking down windows and doors in their haste to get to Nick and Ellis.

"For fucks sake," Nick sighed, and started to drag Ellis, slipping and sliding, over the polished floor and to the safe room door. He manhandled him through the door, and allowed Rochelle and Coach to pass through the incoming horde fairly easily (since they were trying desperately to get to Nick and Ellis) and waltz through the door. Nick slammed it behind them from his crouched hiding position behind the door, and then allowed himself to drop to the floor.

"Man, 'm like fuckin' catnip to those things!" Ellis exclaimed, and Nick started to laugh. Ellis joined in. Coach and Rochelle looked alarmed. When they'd stopped laughing and started to breathe again, Rochelle held out her hand, all of the bile seemingly evaporated into thin air.

"Uh, hi. I'm Rochelle."  
>"Pleased t'meet ya ma'am," Ellis said, shaking her hand. Nick got up off the floor and shook it too.<p>

"This is Ellis, I'm Nick. You're supposed to say your name, kid."  
>"Oh shit, forgot." Ellis did that grin he had a habit of doing, and Nick shook his head in despair.<p>

"'M Coach," Coach said, patting Ellis on the shoulder. "And I'm sure glad to see some other people survived. Especially if we gonna have t'deal with shit like _that_," he pointed outside in the direction of the Tank, "on a day to day basis. We're gonna need all the help w'can get."

Nick rolled his eyes but only Ellis noticed. He _knew_ Nick didn't plan on sticking around for long, but plans didn't seem to matter so much these days. They had to take things on a day to day basis. So Ellis went rummaging in the cupboards, and was delighted to find some tinned spaghetti.

"Look what I've got!" he said, waving it in Nick's face. Nick had forgotten their earlier brotherly attitude and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, great. Tinned spaghetti. Let's have a party."

Ellis didn't let that dampen his enthusiasm, "I got beer too!"

"Any whisky?"  
>"Nope. Just beer."<p>

"That stuffs like piss-water."  
>"I'll have your share, then."<p>

"Hey, I didn't say I didn't _want_ it."

Rochelle rolled her eyes at Coach over the source of the bickering. The two men didn't _look_ like they'd known each other before the infection, but she couldn't work out how long they'd known each other since. Later, she was shocked to find out it was simply the same time she had known Coach, and through a similar chance meeting. Later though, she'd realise Ellis would get on with anyone like he'd known them forever, and there was no awkwardness with him.

For now though, she took the spaghetti out of his hand while he bickered,

"I'll get the cooking started, shall I honey?"  
>Ellis stopped sparring with Nick and flashed her a heart-warming smile.<p>

"That'd be awful kind o'ya. Although, I could do it if you didn' wanna."  
>"No, it's fine sweetie. You just open me one of those beers."<p>

Ellis did as he was told, and passed one out to everyone, his earlier despair forgotten completely in the wake of finding people like him to share it with.

Nick was wondering how long he'd have to stick around these people, and if he'd mind.

Coach was thinking about how many other places there'd be like this, with stocked cupboards should they need it, and praying they'd make the chopper in the morning.

Rochelle was thinking about whether or not she should take a notebook and write down everything that happened. She could get that story yet. If there was anyone left to listen to it.

The next day they sprinted through the zombies, their numbers lessened by the daylight, most seeking out shaded alcoves, to the Vannah hotel where they made their way to the top to see the last helicopters flying away.

By the time they'd left the hotel, they were a team.

By the time they reached the carnival, they were a family.

And by the time they'd reached the bridge, they'd seen every mutation possible in a zombie, fought with every weapon they could find, stayed in every safe house going and eaten every variation of tinned food.

And, well, they'd certainly killed a shit-load of _son's o'bitches_.


End file.
